CHAPTER V.
"Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise.
He who defers his work from day to day,
Does on a river's bank expecting stay,
Till the whole stream, that stopp'd him, shall be gone,
Which runs, and as it runs, for ever shall run on."
After the sisters had passed a most agreeable week with the Valpées, Mrs. De Brooke came in her carriage to convey them home. She returned her children's affectionate embrace, and though she had been undergoing penance during their absence, she Avould still most wilhngly for their sakes have endured it longer, had she not conceived it necessary to remove them.
Upon the meeting of Valpée with Mrs. De Brooke, his outward compliments did but ill conceal his inward chagrin at the prospect of losing the society of Oriana, whose vivacity and playful raillery had conduced most agreeably to recreate his mind from the dryness of his college avocations. He was therefore inclined to deem Mrs. De Brooke an intruder; for Valpée, the favourite of fortune, ever basking in her sunshine, had yet to learn to bear disappointment with a good grace.
No sooner did the sisters find themselves alone with their mother, than they began to expatiate upon the pleasure their visit had afforded them; when Rosilia turning, perceived sadness depicted on the countenance of her much-loved parent: "You are not well," said she in accents of uneasiness.
"I am better, my dear, than I have been" replied Mrs. De Brooke; "your father has been indisposed, which occasioned me some anxiety." She would have changed the subject, being unwilling to distress her daughters with family grievances so immediately after their late amusements, still elated as they seemed, particularly Oriana, by the retrospection of them.
The cautious tenderness of the mother, however, was rendered ineffectual by the affectionate inquiries of the daughters. In compliance therefore, Mrs. De Brooke said, "You are acquainted, my dears, with the embarrassed state of our affairs; and how or when we shall be disentangled from them it is impossible to say. Our creditors become daily more importunate, and we have not yet been able to obtain a suitable tenant for the Villa. Lord Deloraine, we hear, is now in England, and from what Captain Douglas gave us to understand, he may enter into treaty for the Villa, and which I trust may be the case, as the immediate letting of it, with the sale of all our property, can alone save us from ruin. Were we to effect this, our intention is to retire into Wales, for the little revenue afforded to your father by Government is adequate only to an establishment supported by the greatest oeconomy. As to your dear father and myself, we do not grieve on our own accounts; but for you, my dear girls, to be so early in life immured in solitude, it rends our hearts to think of it."
Mrs. De Brooke could not proceed; tears dropped from her maternal eyes. Her daughters sought to comfort her, and in this state of distressed feeling they arrived at home; at that home which was so soon to become the property of another.
They entered at the private gate leading through the shrubbery; and the hapless mother and daughters stepped between banks of flowery luxuriance without uttering one word: they were affectionately greeted by the General.
Mrs. De Brooke hud left him far from well, and though by a forced cheerfulness he had tried to persuade her it was otherwise, his sunk eyes and debilitated frame too plainly spoke what he had wished to conceal. His tender partner found him upon her return rather improved. Throwing herself in the opposite chair, and extending to him her hand, he pressed it warmly between his, and smiling said, "I have good news for you, very good indeed," Mrs. De Brooke brightening lent an attentive ear. "Lord Deloraine has been here during your absence; he came with Douglas, who introduced him; he admired the place extremely; he surveyed the premises, and has already entered into a treaty with me; and I have not a doubt but that I shall ere long dispose of the place, with perfect satisfaction to His Lordship, if not to myself."
Mrs. De Brooke caught from sympathy the ray of hope she saw re-appear over the countenance of her husband; but in reflecting upon the close of the intelligence he had afforded her, she wished to be informed whether Lord Deloraine had entered fully into the terms proposed, to which the General replied, "Had I not been supported by Douglas, I might have had more cause to complain of His Lordship's caution not to outstep the limits he had proposed to himself. I could not help inwardly drawing the comparison of how much the brothers differed, and regretting that the title had not fallen to the lot of Douglas, so much more formed to adorn and grace it." Alas! how might that half-suppressed sigh escaping Rosilia, have described the opposition of her feelings respecting Douglas, caused by Lady Valpée's remarks, no longer free to indulge in those tender sentiments for him which her father's praises might have otherwise led her to cherish! and thus under the influence of feelings at variance, Rosilia had returned to her home.
Not so Douglas, who was still elated by the persuasion that he had succeeded in kindling within Rosilia the first dawnings of affection. Nor was he wrong in his conjecture; though Rosilia had been warned of his errors, and trembled at the thought of a connection with this too dangerous man, her heart had involuntarily surrendered.
In the full blaze and prime of life was Douglas,
"Even in the heyday of impetuous youth!
. . . . . . . . . the blaze of gaudy years—"
possessing every personal recommendation, every brilliant qualification to allure and captivate. The good and evil of his character seemed to be so intimately conjoined, that it was difficult to separate them, and mark the line of distinction due to each, the result of which naturally caused Rosilia to be sensible of a mental warfare, a happiness and unhappiness, wavering between uncertainty and the fear of acting wrongly; for in spite of every restraint she imposed upon herself, her pure mind incessantly sought to associate itself in mutual concord and agreement with one whose rays of virtue seemed, alas! but thinly scattered through mists of error.
After Douglas had one day returned from the Villa, agitated with suspense, caused by the continuing reserve of Rosilia, retarding his advances so much beyond the period he had proposed to himself, he entered his room and found a letter upon his table; it contained an order to hold himself in readiness to rejoin his regiment, and embark in the next fleet for India, which was expected to sail within the space of a few weeks. The packet also contained the news of his being promoted to a majority, by the unexpected dissolution of a senior officer. This latter information at any other time would have been most gratifying to him; but from the circumstances then connected with it, he could scarcely bring himself to rejoice. Business of the utmost moment, previous to his leaving England, required his presence in London, whilst his passion for Rosilia still held him captive in the country: and there it was impossible to linger; the hour of embarkation would speedily arrive, which made it necessary to decide, and that without delay, upon the step he should adopt, in a matter involving the future happiness or misery of his existence.
Thus embarrassed and nearly insensible of his actions, he re-mounted his horse, and rode immediately back to the Villa; the design most prevailing over his mind beings to throw himself at the feet of her he loved, and by the most impassioned and persuasive eloquence try to soften the reserve, which he felt convinced could not be natural to her, it being inconsistent with that sensibility, those acute feelings, her every word, look and action so plainly manifested she possessed. He would awaken her tenderness, the susceptibility of her age, those warm affections nature had implanted within her, and in which she seemed formed to indulge. Upon further considerations, how impracticable appeared this scheme! How could it be possible for him to obtain a private interview with Rosilia? she never went anywhere unattended by some part of the family, and whenever of late he had called at the Villa, she had either remained in privacy, or else tortured and distracted him by the cruel distance she perseveringly maintained. Under the intrusion of these ideas, he slackened his pace, whilst he reflected whether there might be any chance of succeeding should he come openly forward, and at once declare his passion to her parents, state to them his circumstances, and the extreme urgency of his case. This latter suggestion he was inclined to abide by; it accorded with his natural disposition to frankness; but when he considered his deficiency of fortune, he feared to hazard his hopes upon a chance so precarious.
Confused and harassed, he knew not upon what to resolve, for every idea which then occurred seemed only to forebode a failure: notwithstanding, he was impressed with the conviction that the heart of Rosilia was his. Thus in a state of doubt, hope, and alarm, forming and changing his resolution every minute, he was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of the General, from whom he had but so lately parted, and whose looks in consequence expressed some surprise in seeing him return so soon.
The abruptness of the rencontre having dissipated from Douglas the schemes and reasonings he had been forming, his natural ingenuousness also gaining the ascendency, without hesitation he replied to the General's question by entering into a full disclosure of his sentiments. It was in the power of Douglas to be eloquent, even had his heart been less deeply interested; it may therefore be easily conceived he was by no means wanting on an occasion so important to his future happiness, in that glow of expression, that forcible language, which strong feeling naturally dictates. He urged his point with animation: he was listened to With attention; the General pressed his hand with warmth, the tear of parental affection glittered in his eye; he felt inclined to favour him: he paused a moment, he could not proceed, he could not encourage him.
"Douglas", said he, "at present I can scarcely allow myself even to bid you hope; I must consult my child, her future peace and welfare are so greatly concerned in this affair; it is she who must determine your fate: in a day or two perhaps I may be enabled to give you a more decided answer; but," he added, "I thank you, most sincerely thank you, for this frank, this generous disclosure to me."
Douglas, fearing it might militate against his views, had carefully avoided mentioning the order which laid him under the necessity of so shortly rejoining his regiment in India. He spoke of his promotion, on which the General offered his hearty congratulations, and Douglas imagined he had said sufficient to win him over to his interests; he placed however his chief dependence upon the affections of Rosilia, on the indulgence of her parents, and the bright impressions of hope again gladdened his soul. He took a respectful leave of the General, promising to return the following day, in order to receive from Rosilia herself his doom.
Arrived at home, he gave orders to his servant not to be interrupted, having resolved to pass the rest of the day alone, a circumstance very unusual with him, but then earnestly desired on account of the nature of his thoughts, solicitous to shun intrusion. Various were the conjectures he formed relative to the step he had taken; favoured as he had been in every affair of gallantry, might not good fortune still attend him? Ever inclined to indulge in the anticipation of success, he had seldom allowed himself to be depressed by the faintest possibility of disappointment. From never having assailed fair woman's heart in vain, never having been intimidated by her frowns, but always encouraged by her smiles, he still sported his blandishments; and, relying upon the favours he had gained, confidently looked forward to future indulgencies.
But now he felt that the object in view so greatly involved his happiness, that for the first time the dread of a failure triumphed over every other sentiment, and yielding himself to each suggestion it was in the power of his prolific imagination to form, he insensibly reverted to that period of his youth when he first entered upon the world. "I never", said he to himself, "can take a survey of my past life, and see the follies, the wild irregularities I have engaged in, without a feeling of vexation, or what I suppose some people would call remorse. Then why do I think about them? Cannot I suppress the recollection of them? No, it is impossible; for whoever yet could check the current of thought, or impose restraints upon conscience? do what we will it forces its way, and sweeps along with it every accursed thing we would fain lose sight of for ever."
After a short pause, he continued: "Have I ever found those hours spent in nocturnal revelry, repay me with that felicity and enjoyment I had expected? Have I not, on the contrary, even at the time when every object around me seemed influenced solely by the joy of the moment, have I not felt disgusted and estranged; whilst secret sighs escaped me, when the idea obtruded itself of the immorality I was guilty of, in seeking the affections of the virtuous Rosilia even when I was rendering myself unworthy of them? And again, when I have seen my depraved companions drop under the table from excess of inebriety, have I reflected upon their irrational beast-like appearance? No! ever dreading the sarcastic smile or sneering ridicule of the fools around me, I have forced the jest, the laugh, or joined in the clamorous or exulting glee. And for what? It might be said that Douglas was the happiest, the most convivial fellow of the party, always free, gay, and unconcerned; and what then is he now!"
He endeavoured to divert his ideas by reading, but found he could not, and continued ruminating as follows.
"If I had never become acquainted with the De Brookes, I should probably have gone on in a course of unthinking gaiety, and these reflections would never have been drawn from me; had I never known that lovely girl Rosilia, never felt for her aught but what I had felt in common for her sex; had I never perceived her tremble at a trifling tale of vice told in her presence; and had I not perceived that though she abhorred the evil, the culprit excited her compassion rather than her indignation; if I had not perceived her beautiful countenance sadden upon similar occasions, I should never have been called to reflection. It was her uncommon loveliness that caught my admiration; but had not my chains become riveted by the superior lustre of her innocence and virtue, and had not my heart deeply acknowledged their power, I should never have been influenced by these sentiments. How often during my life have I fancied myself in love! it is now my firm belief that I never loved before; it was mere passion, mere infatuation, anything but love; for never, at any time have I been susceptible of feelings such as the present. Since then this little divinity has already effected so much, is it not her duty to finish her work, and, if possible, to effect still more, in becoming my wife? Who knows but I might verify, 'A reformed rake makes the best husband!'" In such reflections the day closed in, and night succeeded, bringing with it a temporary suspension to the doubts, wishes, fears, and hopes of Douglas.